A crack of doom in the Streets of Dawn.
All in the small town rain out of poetry ash.
There is breathing in the darkness of the street lights,
longing for the romance of the alley in the blue hotel sun,
carrying their black wood to an end of self illusion.
The crack develops to rumbling fate.
Sparks of light fall through the dawning,
as the dew shines golden, shimmering like a sea of diamonds.
The child turns around. Struck down by moonshine.
The eye opens, the ear opens and the integrity of all worlds becomes part of the living.
Now the child has its name, tempted by eternity and left with the Moonshine Brand.